
Loss
An excerpt from an upcoming collection.
retrodrag
6/23/20242 min read
One of the most difficult things I've ever had to deal with is how many friends I've lost in my life, and recently, the loss of my best friend and the realization of just how many of my friends have passed.
Sure, I lived a pretty wild life and some of these things make sense - but a lot of them seem cruel to children without parents, spouses without loved ones, and even lives that never had a chance to bloom. It feels like the past itself is dying and all the things that ever happened are lost now to memory. Do we not have an obligation to remember those who are gone as best as we can? Honour their memory and their effects on us as best we can? I don't fucking know, lol. It isn't easy, I know that.
The following is a poem in honour of my best friend whom I trusted more than anyone else. RIP Nick, like I said, I promise to tell everyone about all the dumb shit we ever did. Just not yet ;)
"To Nick"
Hey man, I never thought that this would happen
it wasn't supposed to go this way -
I wasn't there when you were shot in the back
I wasn't there to help you, or your cat
I wasn't there, I'll never forget.
I wish I knew.
There was no other I'd trust like you, my man, B-42.
You were a confidant, and I know you'd scoff,
you were like a fucking knight, bro.
"Well maybe physics is wrong," you told me,
as you tried to generate infinite electricity
but talk of your infinite generosity?
You were crass, but golden hearted, opening your home
as often as you did, and watching you bloom
like some vine of flowers, wildrose and trillium
Your aspirations, lofty and memorialized,
like the Lancaster yet again rising.
I'd seen the way you'd toss boulder-stone around
or that time you ripped a young tree from the ground
as we, as youth, torn as well - I was a mandrake
and you were a flower representing kindness
(drop the poetics, it was cannabis!)
One true beauty of this world was when your inner soul
everyone else beheld, finally, everyone's enrolled.
You bought a home in cash, we were chemists too!
I don't remember, weren't you a C.E.O.?
You made that stock deal in Africa,
resold all that product from China.
You were amazing, my friend, and you didn't even know.
You dropped out, but you're brilliant, it shows.
You took a bullet for a stranger, nothing more can be said.
I always thought that in our ancient years
we'd yell at kids, and tell our stories
to anyone who would listen, maybe tell our kids
about the teenage microcosm, how we spent our days.
You've become a memory, I'd like to join you
not just yet, but to share a smoke if you'd let me -
I really hope that whatever it is, you are home
(why did your story end, why couldn't I have known?)